Let's Talk About Sex, Baby
by Summer Reign
Summary: A little geekish pillow talk in the middle of the night.


Title: Let's Talk about Sex, Baby

Author: Summer Reign

Spoilers: The extraordinarily awesome _Two Mrs. Grissoms_

Rating: In spite of the title, T

Disclaimer: Not mine. All theirs and, for once, they are beginning to treat them right!

Summary: A little geekish pillow talk in the night.

XXXXX

In the darkness of their bedroom, Sara gave thanks for the gift of hearing.

Exactly who she was giving thanks to was a mystery. While Sara was probably closer to believing in a Higher Power than ever before in her lifetime, she still wasn't 100 percent there.

Still, she felt a keener sense of appreciation for that sense than she had ever been aware of. It was only natural, after being among those who were deaf or severely hearing-impaired and trying to fit in their world, for a change. Signing was a challenge; one she was making extremely slow progress with. But, she knew that was only part of what the deaf had to face. Not hearing sound at all was something she couldn't even imagine. When the madness of their case died down, she went home and listened to music for 12-hours straight. And then called Gil, just to hear him talk. She started the conversation with "so, tell me about those Rice Crispy corpses, again…" and he rambled on for 20-minutes before coming up for air.

It was a little slice of personal heaven.

But, not as wonderful a slice as the one she was now experiencing.

Somewhere in the room (she strongly suspected the floor on Gil's side), she listened to deviated-septum- challenged Hank, whose snores could wake a small army, but lulled her to sleep on more than one occasion. And, directly below her ear, was the sound of Gil's heartbeat returning to its normal pace, after their enthusiastic combined "welcome home/oh-and-happy-Valentine's-day" bout of lovemaking.

He'd be asleep in a few moments.

Or not…

"If my mother could see us now, she'd stop worrying about our sex lives so much."

Sara lifted herself up on one elbow and looked at him, trying not to express the shock and horror of the mental picture he just conjured up with his words.

"You would want your mom to see us…this way?"

He laughed. Another sound that usually made her very happy, when she wasn't quite so disturbed.

"Of course not. It was just a random thought."

She shook her head and lay back down with her head against his shoulder.

After a few minutes of lying there, trying to get the image of Betty's Grissom's frowning face out of her mind, Sara broke the silence.

"I think she feels your needs aren't being met."

"No," Grissom said, in his no-nonsense, matter of fact way. "I _think_ she's under some kind of assumption that we can't make babies if we're not in the same country."

Sara shot up again. "Babies?"

He reached out a hand and brushed her hair away from her shoulder. "I set her straight on that one."

"Okay_." Maybe_ okay, she thought. "What did you say?"

"I told her babies were not on the agenda, as of this moment. If we ever changed our minds, we'd let her know but not to hold her breath."

Sara sighed. Gil was engaging in _very_ wishful thinking if he believed that subject to be closed.

Back down on the pillow Sara went. After a few moments, she broke the silence. She couldn't seem to stop herself. The subject was still a sore point.

"She's not the only one, you know. Your mother, I mean. Everyone at the lab…well. I think they think you settled."

"Settled?" he said, sounding genuinely puzzled.

"Yeah. You know. After a life of kinky, unbridled sex, you opted to spend the rest of it with the brainy one who could _mentally_ stimulate you. At least, that's what Hodges thinks. And, I'm pretty sure all the others do, too. With the possible exception of Greg."

"That's foolish," he said, and then, as an afterthought, "And why would Greg be the exception?"

"He's the only one who recognized me as a wom…never mind. Anyway, it was…a bit of a bummer, ego-wise."

"Sara, why would you pay any attention to what they say or do? You know Hodges never thinks before he speaks. And he's continuing to engage in some form of hero-worship that he's completely fabricated in his own, bizarre mind. There was no sex- kinky, unbridled or otherwise-once you came to Vegas. You know that. So, I didn't 'settle.' I waited. Perhaps a little longer than one might…"

Okay. Sara would have to apply for that Jack in the Box license soon because up she went.

"_No_ sex?"

"None."

"But, that's not what the office grapevine…"

"Rumors. False rumors."

"Lady…"

"Nope."

"But you spent the night…twice."

"You know nothing happened that second time. How could it? We were in a committed relationship by then. The first time…temptation was there. I won't deny that. And I might have given in, if the case had worked out in a different way but…no."

"Shit," she said and meant it. The guy was a closet monk. Well, not anymore … but … shit.

"Anyone else you want to know about while we're on the subject? Julia?"

He certainly was in a giving mood tonight. But, she had heard enough.

"I decided Julia was a fling," she said. "I can live with that. Actually, after what you just told me, I can pretty much live with anything. You told me it had 'been awhile,' but that's impressive."

"You told me it had been awhile for you, too, if you recall."

"Yup."

"Only the paramedic?" he hesitantly asked, after a few moments of silence.

Grissom never used _his _name. Why he named his dog 'Hank' was beyond her.

"Only the paramedic," she answered, "and that was short-lived." (She left out "and a HUGE mistake.")

"Yeah, we're both swinging from chandeliers."

It was her turn to laugh. "**We** hold our own. The two of us, together, I mean."

"That we do. Let's see, sex in every room in your old apartment. In every room in my old condo. In every room in this one. The breaking of the sink incident. Sex outdoors in Costa Rica. Which, of course, led to the near drowning under the waterfall incident. The tipping of the canoe in France. Ditto on the drowning. The whole pinched nerve incident when we were trying a position from that damned book…"

She smiled. He referred to the Kama Sutra as 'that damned book' ever since his sciatic nerve put him out of commission for nearly three weeks.

"That reminds me," Grissom said and sprang out of bed himself. She watched his naked behind as he padded across the room toward his luggage. Hank (the dog) was sleepily following his master and Grissom gave a tiny yelp of his own when Hank's cold nose touched Gil's left cheek.

"Down boy," he said as he located what he wanted and padded back to bed.

Grissom handed Sara the newspaper-wrapped present.

"Sorry about the wrapping. The TSA won't let you gift wrap anything you can't unwrap in their presence. And, I had a hard enough time explaining what this was without it becoming…an incident."

She removed the paper and found a small, rounded ceramic jar with a lid on it. There was a faint etching in the center but she couldn't make it out in the relative darkness of the room.

"I can't see what's on here."

"Sorry. I'm still very used to the darkness from living outside at the dig for the past 5 weeks," he said as he switched on the nightstand light.

Sara smiled. "Is this what I think it is?"

"It's a sex pot!" he said, proudly, confirming her suspicions. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"That looks like you and me."

"It is. The craftsman was not the greatest artist but it was the best I could do with such short notice. I just handed him the picture from our wedding and let him have at it."

"It's not…sexual," she said, frowning, yet relieved. "I mean, future generations wouldn't learn much from the two of us looking at each other and holding hands."

He shrugged. "I think it says it all."

Sara looked at him through slightly squinted eyes. Sometimes, she felt she should actually be able to read his mind, by now.

Nope. Not gonna happen. Not this time.

"Okay. Give it to me," she said and he smiled in response. He loved bringing home his point.

"Mom thinks sex should be a regularly scheduled thing. Which, perhaps, was part of her relationship with my father. I don't know and—frankly—don't want to think about it much. The guys at the lab—think I did all manner of sexual acts based solely on my friendship with a dominatrix. And the fact that I attended a Plushie convention and know about the effect of altitude on the male sex drive. All within the line of duty and _all_ circumstantial evidence. And, again…the fact that you are a complete and consummate professional at work and don't flaunt your sexuality has led them to the very false conclusion that all they see is all there is to you. And, therefore, I must love you for your mind, rather than your body."

"You DO love me for my body?" she asked, highly amused at the thought of her bony knees and non-Catherine-dimension breasts.

"I do. And your mind. Among other things. And, there you have the point of our sex pot."

"Spell it out, Gil."

"Future generations would be wise to learn the lesson. It all begins with the touch of our hands and the look in our eyes. It all begins with the joining of two souls. The greatest affairs begin with the feelings in our hearts. Without it, it's all exercise. Pleasurable exercise, but still…exercise."

"And with it?"

"It's a feeling of completion. Of coming home."

"You think anyone will understand all that, just by looking at us?"

"Probably not. But, that's all right, too. It's our sex pot. We've always had something that only we, truly, 'get.' And I don't mind that, do you?"

She shook her head no. No, it didn't matter. It was _annoying_ that people might think they didn't love each other enough to have a more conventional marriage, but that was their problem. Their unconventional marriage was not something either of them expected when they exchanged their vows, but it absolutely worked for them.

Since their marriage, he had changed so much. What he once guarded so carefully, he now gave freely. Emotions and words just seemed to flow more smoothly. He was still the same person but she truly felt he was now…hers. And she had always been his. And she wanted him to have everything.

Sexually, she would do (nearly) anything he wanted. He actually was pretty content with what he had. But, he was also not that shy about suggesting things he thought they might want to try. Sometimes, they worked out wonderfully. And, sometimes…there was the pinched nerve incident. But, it usually ended in laughter and a strengthening of a trust that couldn't be denied. And, at the end of the day, he said (and she believed) that his favorite part of the sexual experience was that one moment, post-orgasm, when he held her, moved the hair away from her face and kissed her deeply. Whatever 'womanly feedback' the guys at the lab failed to provide, Gil more than made up for, once the doors were closed behind them.

But, there was a life to be led outside of retirement from the lab. And, outside of marriage. Gil was too young to fly-fish all day. Sara had never been quite as moved as when he gave her his personal 'bucket list,' years before after an extremely trying work night. She didn't want him to be sick and dying while trying to play catch-up with all he wanted to see and feel and learn. She wanted him to do those things now. They tried doing that together, for a while, but his interests were not the same as hers. And she was holding him back a bit because he was trying so hard to make her see, feel and love what he did.

And, Sara, herself, had some unfinished business to take care of. She left the lab in defeat and personal shame. This time, she approached the job with a bit of emotional distance to temper the inevitable disappointments. And, when the time came when she and Gil had the means to work together again, she wanted to walk out of the lab the same way he did. On her own terms and with a sense of a job well done—and over with.

So, for the time being, this was how they decided to live.

Every time they were together, it felt new. And, yet, like 'home.' And it was great.

So great that they now were immortalized…

On a sexpot.

She heard herself giggle in the once again darkened room.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. It's just…I thought if you had substituted our wedding picture for a sketch of what we were doing the moment before the pinched nerve incident, and I brought it to the office…well, I don't think I'd ever have to deal with Hodges again in this lifetime."

"Are you kidding? He'd have a new Grissom to worship."

"You're probably right."

Sara yawned and it was now Grissom's turn to lay his head against her shoulder. He grabbed her hand and interlaced his fingers with hers.

"Happy Valentine's day, Sara," he said and surprised her by nuzzling his nose deeper into the crook of her neck, rather than beginning a diatribe on the Hallmark holiday. She thought of her "gifts" left forgotten in the living room, in their haste to start their celebration.

"Gris, I didn't get you anything as creative but I did get some champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries. Oh, and some fancy underwear…"

The only response she received was the sound of two beings snoring in the darkness.

It was the sweetest music to Sara's ears.

XXXXX

The End.

XXXXX

A/N: Well, I certainly enjoyed the sex talk in the episode but what got me more than anything was the absolute tenderness of that last scene. Yes, they were talking sex, but…they were speaking love (I know I sound like a Harlequin romance but…it is what it is;-)

I kind of wanted to play on that and used the dreaded Valentine's Day to do this. This is twice I've set a fic on VD day. One more and I may have to give back my Bitter Old Maid membership card.


End file.
